Now, this regular who won our little wars was not representative of the people as a whole.  He was the man “down on his luck,” who went to the recruiting depot.  Soldiering became his profession.  He was in a class, like priests and vagabonds.  When you passed him in the street you thought of him as a strange being, but one of the necessities of national existence.  It did not interest you to be a soldier; but as there must be soldiers, you were glad that men who would be soldiers were forthcoming.

When trouble broke, how you needed him!  When the wires brought news of his gallantry you accepted the deeds of this man whom you had paid as the reflection of national courage, which thrilled you with a sense of national superiority.  To him, it was in the course of duty; what he had been paid to do.  He did not care about being called a hero; but it pleased the public to make him one—­this professional who fights for a shilling a day in England and $17.50 a month in the United States.

Though when the campaign went well the public was ready to take the credit as a personal tribute, when the campaign went badly they sought a scapegoat, and the general who might have been a hero was sent to the wilderness perhaps because those busy men in Congress or Parliament thought that the army could do without that little appropriation which was needed for some other purpose.  The army had failed to deliver the goods which it was paid to produce.  The army was to blame, when, of course, under free institutions the public was to blame, as the public is master of the army and not the army of the public.

A first impression of the British army is always that of the regiment.  Pride of regiment sometimes appears almost more deep-seated than army pride to the outsider.  It has been so long a part of British martial inheritance that it is bred in the blood.  In the old days of small armies and in the later days of small wars, while Europe was making every man a soldier by conscription, regiment vying with regiment won the battles of empire.  The memory of the part each regiment played is the inspiration of its present; its existence is inseparable from the traditions of its long list of battle honours.

The British public loves to read of its Guards’ regiment and to watch them in their brilliant uniforms at review.  When a cadet comes out of Sandhurst he names the regiment which he wishes to join, instead of being ordered to a certain regiment, as at West Point.  It rests with the regimental commander whether or not he is accepted.  Frequently the young man of wealth or family serves in the Guards or another crack regiment for awhile and resigns, usually to enjoy the semi-leisurely life which is the fortune of his inheritance.